A Month In Yorkshire by Walter White

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Title: A Month in Yorkshire

Author: Walter White

Release Date: April 22, 2011 [EBook #35933]

Language: English

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A MONTH IN YORKSHIRE.

YORKSHIRE.

A MONTH IN YORKSHIRE.

BY

WALTER WHITE,

AUTHOR OF “A LONDONER’S WALK TO THE LAND’S END,” “ALL ROUND THE

WREKIN,” AND OTHER BOOKS OF TRAVEL.

“Know most of the rooms of thy native country, before thou goest over the threshold
thereof; especially, seeing England presents thee with so many observables.”—Fuller.

FOURTH EDITION.

[Pg i]

[Pg ii]

[Pg iii]

LONDON:

CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.

1861.

[The right of Translation is reserved.]

By the same Author.

A Londoner’s Walk to the Land’s End; and a Trip to the Scilly Isles. Second

Edition.

On Foot through Tyrol.

A July Holiday in Saxony, Bohemia and Silesia.

Northumberland and the Border. Second Edition.

All Round the Wrekin. Second Edition.

FOREWORD TO THE FOURTH EDITION.

The first two editions of this work had not long been published when I was pelted with animadversions for the
“scandalous misrepresentation” conveyed in my report of a conversation held with a villager at Burnsall; which
conversation may be read in the twenty-second chapter. My reply was, that I had set down less than was spoken—that
I had brought no accusation, not having even mentioned the “innocent-looking country town” as situate in any one of the
three Ridings—that what I had seen, however, in some of the large towns, led me to infer that the imputation (if such it
were) would hardly fail to apply; and, moreover, if the Yorkshire conscience felt uneasy, was I to be held responsible?

My explanation that the town in question was not in Yorkshire, was treated as of none effect, and my censors rejoined
in legal phrase, that I had no case. So I went about for awhile under a kind of suspicion, or as an unintentional martyr,
until one day there met me two gentlemen from Leeds, one of whom declared that he and others, jealous of their
county’s reputation, and doubting not to convict me of error, had made diligent inquiry and found to their discomfiture,
that the assemblages implied in the villager’s remark, did actually take place within Yorkshire itself. The discovery is not
one to be proud of; but, having been made, let the county strive to free itself from at least that reproach.

Another censurable matter was my word of warning against certain inns which had given me demonstration that their
entertainment, regulated by a sliding scale, went up on the arrival of a stranger. Yorkshire wrote a flat denial of the
implication to my publishers, and inclosed a copy of what he called “his tariff,” by way of proof, which would have been
an effectual justification had my grievance been an invention; but, as it happened, the tariff presented testimony in my
favour, by the difference between its prices and those which I had been required to pay.

I only notice this incident because of the general question, in which all who travel are more or less interested. Why
should an Englishman, accustomed to equitable dealings while staying at home, be required to submit so frequently to
the reverse when journeying in his own country? Shopkeepers are ready to sell socks, or saddles, or soap without an
increase of price on the plea that they may never see you again, and without expecting you to fee their servants for
placing the article before you; and why should innkeepers claim a privilege to do otherwise? The numerous complaints
which every season’s experience calls forth from tourists, imply a want of harmony between “travelling facilities” and the
practice of licensed victuallers; and if English folk are to be persuaded to travel in their own country, the sooner the
required harmony is established, the better. It would be very easy to exhibit a table of charges and fees by which a
tourist might ascertain cost beforehand, and choose accordingly. Holland is a notoriously dear and highly-taxed country,
yet fivepence a day is all the charge that Dutch innkeepers make for “attendance.”

In one instance the discussion took a humorous turn:—the name of a certain jovial host, with whom I had a talk in
Swaledale, appeared subscribed to a letter in the Richmond Chronicle, and as it furnishes us with a fresh specimen of
local dialect, I take leave to quote a few passages therefrom. After expostulating with the editor for “prentan” a letter
which somebody had written in his “neame,” the writer says, “but between ye an’ me, I believe this chap’s been readin’
a buke put out by yan White, ’at was trailin’ about t’ Deales iv hay-time, an’ afoare he set off to gang by t’ butter-tubs
to t’ Hawes, he ast me what publick-house he was to gang te, an’ I tell’t him t’ White Hart; an’ becoz he mebby fand t’
shot rayther bigger than a lik’d, he’s gi’en t’ landlord a wipe iv his buke aboot t’ length of his bill, an’ me aboot t’ girth
o’ me body—pity but he’d summat better to rite aboot; but nivver heed, it nobbut shows ’at my meat agrees wi’ me,
an’ ’at t’ yal ’at I brew ’s naythur sour ner wake, an’ ’at I drink my shar’ on’t mysel: but if I leet on him, or can mak’
oot t’ chap ’at sent ye t’ letter, I’ll gi’ ’em an on-be-thinkin.”

Sheffield, too, has not yet ceased to reprove me for having published the obvious fact, that the town is frightfully smoky,

[Pg iv]

[Pg v]

[Pg vi]

[Pg vii]

and unclean in appearance and in its talk. If I were to make any alteration in this particular, it would be to give
emphasis, not to lighten the description. A town which permits its trade to be coerced by ignorance, and where the
ultimate argument of the working-classes is gunpowder or a knock on the head, should show that the best means have
been taken to purify morals as well as the atmosphere and streets, before it claims to be “nothing like so bad as is
represented.” But, the proverb which declares that “people who eat garlic are always sure it doesn’t smell,” will
perhaps never cease to be true.

Of the £14,000,000 worth of woollen and worsted goods exported in 1859, Yorkshire supplied the largest portion;
and still maintains its reputation for “crafty wit and shrinking cloth,” as shewn by the increase in the manufacture of
shoddy. One of the manufacturers at Batley has made known in a printed pamphlet, that 50,000,000 pounds of rags
are at the present time annually converted into various kinds of so-called woollen goods. We walk on shoddy as it
covers our floors; and we wear shoddy in our stockings and under-garments, as well as in capes and overcoats.
Turning to mineral products, we find that in 1859, Yorkshire raised 1,695,842 tons of ironstone, and 8,247,000 tons of
coal, worth in round numbers £3,573,000. And with all this there is an increase in the means and results of education,
and an abatement of pauperism: in 1820, the poor’s-rate in Hull was seven shillings and eightpence in the pound, in
1860, not more than eightpence.

And to mention facts of another kind:—by the digging of a drain on Marston Moor, a heap of twenty-five or thirty
skeletons was discovered, around which the clay retained the form of the bodies, like a mould; a bullet fell from one of
the skulls, and in some the teeth were perfectly sound, 213 years after the battle. At Malton, during a recent excavation
of the main street, one hundred yards of the Roman highway leading from Derby to York were laid bare, three feet
below the present surface. Scarborough is building new batteries on her castled cliff, and replacing old guns by new
ones; and Hull is about to add to its resources by the construction of a new dock. The much-needed harbour of refuge
is, however, not yet begun, as wrecks along the coast after easterly storms lamentably testify.

This Month in Yorkshire was the second of my books of home-travel; and it was while rambling along the cliffs and
over the hills of the famous county, that I conceived it possible to interest others as well as myself in the Past and the
Present, in the delightful natural aspects and the wonderful industry of our native country to a yet wider extent; and
therein I have not been disappointed. To the objection that my works are useless as guide-books, I answer, that no
intelligent reader will find it difficult to follow my route: distances are mentioned with sufficient accuracy, the length of my
longest day’s walk is recorded, whereby any one, who knows his own strength, may easily plan each day’s journey in
anticipation. By aid of the map which accompanies the present volume either planning or reference will now be
facilitated.

Next to ourselves, there is perhaps nothing so interesting to us as our own country, which may be taken as a good
reason why a book about England finds favour with readers. For my part let me repeat a passage from the foreword to
the second edition:—“I know that I have an earnest love for my subject; feeling proud of the name of Englishman, and
the freedom of thought, speech, and action therein involved; loving our fields and lanes, our hills and moorlands, and the
shores of our sea, and delighting much to wander among them. Happy shall I be if I can inspire the reader with the like
emotions.”

W. W

London, March, 1861.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

PAGE.

A Short Chapter to begin with
1

CHAPTER II.

Estuary of the Humber—Sunk Island—Land versus Water—Dutch Phenomena—Cleathorpes—Grimsby—

Paul—River Freaks—Mud—Stukeley and Drayton—Fluvial Parliament—Hull—The Thieves’ Litany—
Docks and Drainage—More Dutch Phenomena—The High Church—Thousands of Piles—The Citadel—
The Cemetery—A Countryman’s Voyage to China—An Aid to Macadam
5

CHAPTER III.

[Pg viii]

[Pg ix]

A Railway Trip—More Land Reclamation—Hedon—Historical Recollections—Burstwick—The Earls of

Albemarle—Keyingham—The Duke of York—Winestead—Andrew Marvell’s Birthplace—A Glimpse of
the Patriot—Patrington—A Church to be proud of—The Hildyard Arms—Feminine Paper-hangers—
Walk to Spurn—Talk with a Painter—Welwick—Yellow Ochre and Cleanliness—Skeffling—Humber
Bank—Miles of Mud—Kilnsea—Burstall Garth—The Greedy Sea—The Sandbank—A Lost Town,
Ravenser Odd—A Reminiscence from Shakspeare—The Spurn Lighthouse—Withernsea—Owthorne—
Sister Churches—The Ghastly Churchyard—A Retort for a Fool—A Word for Philologists
14

CHAPTER IV.

Northern Manners—Cottingham—The Romance of Baynard Castle—Beverley—Yorkshire Dialect—The

Farmers’ Breakfast—Glimpses of the Town—Antiquities and Constables—The Minster—Yellow Ochre
—The Percy Shrine—The Murdered Earl—The Costly Funeral—The Sisters’ Tomb—Rhyming Legend
—The Fridstool—The Belfry
27

CHAPTER V.

A Scotchman’s Observations—The Prospect—The Anatomy of Beverley—Historical Associations—The

Brigantes—The Druids—Austin’s Stone—The Saxons—Coifi and Paulinus—Down with Paganism—A
Great Baptism—St. John of Beverley—Athelstan and Brunanburgh—The Sanctuary—The Conqueror—
Archbishop Thurstan’s Privileges—The Sacrilegious Mayor—Battle of the Standard—St. John’s Miracles
—Brigand Burgesses—Annual Football—Surrounding Sites—Watton and Meaux—Etymologies—King
Athelstan’s Charter
33

CHAPTER VI.

The Great Drain—The Carrs—Submerged Forest—River Hull—Tickton—Routh—Tippling Rustics—A

Cooler for Combatants—The Blind Fiddler—The Improvised Song—The Donkey Races—Specimens of
Yorkshiremen—Good Wages—A Peep at Cottage Life—Ways and Means—A Paragraph for Bachelors
—Hornsea Mere—The Abbots’ Duel—Hornsea Church—The Marine Hotel
40

CHAPTER VII.

Coast Scenery—A waning Mere, and wasting Cliffs—The Rain and the Sea—Encroachment prevented—

Economy of the Hotel—A Start on the Sands—Pleasure of Walking—Cure for a bad Conscience—
Phenomena of the Shore—Curious Forms in the Cliffs—Fossil Remains—Strange Boulders—A Villager’s
Etymology—Reminiscences of “Bonypart” and Paul Jones—The last House—Chalk and Clay—
Bridlington—One of the Gipseys—Paul Jones again—The Sea-Fight—A Reminiscence of Montgomery
48

CHAPTER VIII.

What the Boarding-House thought—Landslips—Yarborough House—The Dane’s Dike—Higher Cliffs—The

South Landing—The Flamborough Fleet—Ida, the Flamebearer—A Storm—A talk in a Limekiln—
Flamborough Fishermen—Coffee before Rum—No Drunkards—A Landlord’s Experiences—Old-
fashioned Honesty
56

CHAPTER IX.

Men’s and Women’s Wages—The Signal Tower—The passing Fleet—The Lighthouse—The Inland View—

Cliff Scenery—Outstretching Reefs—Selwick’s Bay—Down to the Beach—Aspect of the Cliffs—The
Matron—Lessons in Pools—Caverns—The King and Queen—Arched Promontories—The North
Landing—The Herring-Fishers—Pleasure Parties—Robin Lyth’s Hole—Kirk Hole—View across little
Denmark—Speeton—End of the Chalk—Walk to Filey
60

CHAPTER X.

Old and New Filey—The Ravine—Filey Brig—Breaking Waves—Rugged Cliffs—Prochronic Gravel—

Gristhorp Bay—Insulated Column—Lofty Cliffs—Fossil Plants—Red Cliff—Cayton Bay—Up to the
Road—Bare Prospect—Cromwell Hotel and Oliver’s Mount—Scarborough—The Esplanade—
Watering-Place Phenomena—The Cliff Bridge—The Museum—The Spa—The Old Town—The Harbour
—The Castle Rock—The Ancient Keep—The Prospect—Reminiscences: of Harold Hardrada; of
Pembroke’s Siege; of the Papists’ Surprise; of George Fox; of Robin Hood—The One Artilleryman—
Scarborough Newspapers—Cloughton—The Village Inn, and its Guests—Tudds and Pooads
66

CHAPTER XI.

From Cloughton to Haiburn Wyke—The embowered Path—Approach to the Sea—Rock, Water, and Foliage

—Heavy Walking—Staintondale Cliffs—The Undercliff—The Peak—Raven Hall—Robin Hood’s Bay—
A Trespass—Alum Works—Waterfalls—Bay Town—Manners and Customs of the Natives—Coal
Trade—The Churchyard—Epitaphs—Black-a-moor—Hawsker—Vale of Pickering—Robin Hood and
Little John’s Archery—Whitby Abbey—Beautiful Ruin—St. Hilda, Wilfrid, and Cœdmon—Legends—A
Fallen Tower—St. Mary’s Church—Whitby—The Vale of Esk—Specimens of Popular Hymns
78

[Pg x]

[Pg xi]

CHAPTER XII.

Whitby’s Attractions—The Pier—The River-Mouth—The Museum—Saurians and Ammonites—An

enthusiastic Botanist—Jet in the Cliffs, and in the Workshop—Jet Carvers and Polishers—Jet Ornaments
—The Quakers’ Meeting—A Mechanics’ Institute—Memorable Names—A Mooky Miner—Trip to
Grosmont—The Basaltic Dike—Quarries and Ironstone—Thrifty Cottagers—Abbeys and Hovels—A
Stingy Landlord—Egton Bridge—Eskdale Woods—The Beggar’s Bridge
89

CHAPTER XIII.

To Upgang—Enter Cleveland—East Row—The first Alum-Maker—Sandsend—Alum-Works—The huge

Gap—Hewing the Alum Shale—Limestone Nodules: Mulgrave Cement—Swarms of Fossils—Burning the
Shale—Volcanic Phenomena—From Fire to Water—The Cisterns—Soaking and Pumping—The
evaporating Pans—The Crystallizing Process—The Roching Casks—Brilliant Crystals—A Chemical
Triumph—Rough Epsoms
97

CHAPTER XIV.

Mulgrave Park—Giant Wade—Ubba’s Landing-place—The Boggle-boggarts—The Fairy’s Chase—

Superstitions—The Knight of the Evil Lake—Lythe—St. Oswald’s Church—Goldsborough—Kettleness
—Rugged Cliffs and Beach—Runswick Bay—Hob-Hole—Cure for Whooping-cough—Jet Diggers—
Runswick—Hinderwell—Horticultural Ravine—Staithes—A curious Fishing-town—The Black Minstrels
—A close-neaved Crowd—The Cod and Lobster—Houses washed away—Queer back Premises—The
Termagants’ Duel—Fisherman’s Talk—Cobles and Yawls—Dutch and French Poachers—Tap-room
Talk—Reminiscences of Captain Cook
104

CHAPTER XV.

Last Day by the Sea—Boulby—Magnificent Cliffs—Lofthouse and Zachary Moore—The Snake-killer—The

Wyvern—Eh! Packman—Skinningrave—Smugglers and Privateers—The Bruce’s Privileges—What the
old Chronicler says—Story about a Sea-Man—The Groaning Creek—Huntcliff Nab—Rosebury Topping
—Saltburn—Cormorant Shooters—Cunning Seals—Miles of Sands—Marske—A memorable Grave—
Redcar—The Estuary of Tees—Asylum Harbour—Recreations for Visitors—William Hutton’s
Description—Farewell to the Sea
115

CHAPTER XVI.

Leave Redcar—A Cricket-Match—Coatham—Kirkleatham—The Old Hospital—The Library—Sir William

Turner’s Tomb—Cook, Omai, and Banks—The Hero of Dettingen—Yearby Bank—Upleatham—
Guisborough—Past and Present—Tomb of Robert Bruce—Priory Ruins—Hemingford, Pursglove, and
Sir Thomas Chaloner—Pretty Scenery—The Spa—More Money, Less Morals—What George Fox’s
Proselytes did—John Wesley’s Preaching—Hutton Lowcross—Rustics of Taste—Rosebury Topping—
Lazy Enjoyment—The Prospect: from Black-a-moor to Northumberland—Cook’s Monument—Canny
Yatton—The Quakers’ School—A Legend—Skelton—Sterne and Eugenius—Visitors from
Middlesbro’—A Fatal Town—Newton—Digger’s Talk—Marton, Cook’s Birthplace—Stockton—
Darlington
123

CHAPTER XVII.

Locomotive, Number One—Barnard Castle—Buying a Calf on Sunday—Baliol’s Tower—From Canute to the

Duke of Cleveland—Historic Scenery—A surprised Northumbrian—The bearded Hermit—Beauty of
Teesdale—Egliston Abbey—The Artist and his Wife—Dotheboys Hall—Rokeby—Greta Bridge—
Mortham Tower—Brignall Banks—A Pilgrimage to Wycliffe—Fate of the Inns—The Felon Sow—A
Journey by Omnibus—Lartington—Cotherstone—Scandinavian Traces—Romaldkirk—Middleton-in-
Teesdale—Wild Scenery—High Force Inn—The voice of the Fall
136

CHAPTER XVIII.

Early Morn—High Force—Rock and Water—A Talk with the Waitress—Hills and Cottages—Cronkley Scar

—The Weel—Caldron Snout—Soothing Sound—Scrap from an Album—View into Birkdale—A Quest
for Dinner—A Westmoreland Farm—Household Matters—High Cope Nick—Mickle Fell—The Boys’
Talk—The Hill-top—Glorious Prospect—A Descent—Solitude and Silence—A Moss—Stainmore—
Brough—The Castle Ruin—Reminiscences
146

[Pg xii]

[Pg xiii]

CHAPTER XIX.

Return into Yorkshire—The Old Pedlar—Oh! for the Olden Time—“The Bible, indeed!”—An Emissary—Wild

Boar Fell—Shunnor Fell—Mallerstang—The Eden—A Mountain Walk—Tan Hill—Brown Landscape—
A School wanted—Swaledale—From Ling to Grass—A Talk with Lead Miners—Stonesdale—Work for
a Missionary—Thwaite—A Jolly Landlord—A Ruined Town—The School at Muker—A Nickname—
Buttertubs Pass—View into Wensleydale—Lord Wharncliffe’s Lodge—Simonstone—Hardraw Scar—
Geological Phenomenon—A Frozen Cone—Hawes
157

CHAPTER XX.

Bainbridge—“If you had wanted a wife”—A Ramble—Millgill Force—Whitfell Force—A Lovely Dell—The

Roman Camp—The Forest Horn, and the old Hornblower—Haymaking—A Cockney Raker—
Wensleydale Scythemen—A Friend indeed—Addleborough—Curlews and Grouse—The First Teapot—
Nasty Greens—The Prospect—Askrigg—Bolton Castle—Penhill—Middleham—Miles Coverdale’s
Birthplace—Jervaux Abbey—Moses’s Principia—Nappa Hall—The Metcalfes—The Knight and the
King—The Springs—Spoliation of the Druids—The great Cromlech—Legend—An ancient Village—
Simmer Water—An advice for Anglers—More Legends—Counterside—Money-Grubbers—Widdale—
Newby Head
165

CHAPTER XXI.

About Gimmer Hogs—Gearstones—Source of the Ribble—Weathercote Cave—An Underground Waterfall—

A Gem of a Cave—Jingle Pot—The Silly Ducks—Hurtle Pool—The Boggart—A Reminiscence of the
Doctor—Chapel-le-Dale—Remarkable
Scenery—Ingleborough—Ingleton—Craven—Young
Daniel

Dove, and Long Miles—Clapham—Ingleborough Cave—Stalactite and Stalagmite—Marvellous
Spectacle—Pillar Hall—Weird Music—Treacherous Pools—The Abyss—How Stalactite forms—The
Jockey Cap—Cross Arches—The Long Gallery—The Giant’s Hall—Mysterious Waterfall—A Trouty
Beck—The Bar-Parlour—A Bradford Spinner
177

CHAPTER XXII.

By Rail to Skipton—A Stony Town—Church and Castle—The Cliffords—Wharfedale—Bolton Abbey—

Picturesque Ruins—A Foot-Bath—Scraps from Wordsworth—Bolton Park—The Strid—Barden Tower
—The Wharfe—The Shepherd Lord—Reading to Grandfather—A Cup of Tea—Cheerful Hospitality—
Trout Fishing—Gale Beck—Symon Seat—A Real Entertainer—Burnsall—A Drink of Porter—
Immoralities—Threshfield—Kilnsey—The Crag—Kettlewell—A Primitive Village—Great Whernside—
Starbottom—Buckden—Last View of Wharfedale—Cray—Bishopdale—A Pleasant Lane—Bolton
Castle—Penhill—Aysgarth—Dead Pastimes—Decrease of Quakers—Failure of a Mission—Why and
Wherefore—Aysgarth Force—Drunken Barnaby—Inroad of Fashion
191

CHAPTER XXIII.

A Walk—Carperby—Despotic Hay-time—Bolton Castle—The Village—Queen Mary’s Prison—Redmire—

Scarthe Nick—Pleasing Landscape—Halfpenny House—Hart-Leap Well—View into Swaledale—
Richmond—The Castle—Historic Names—The Keep—St. Martin’s Cell—Easby Abbey—Beautiful
Ruins—King Arthur and Sleeping Warriors—Ripon—View from the Minster Tower—Archbishop Wilfrid
—The Crypt—The Nightly Horn—To Studley—Surprising Trick—Robin Hood’s Well—Fountains
Abbey—Pop goes the Weasel—The Ruins—Robin Hood and the Curtall Friar—To Thirsk—The Ancient
Elm—Epitaphs
206

CHAPTER XXIV.

Sutton: a pretty Village—The Hambleton Hills—Gormire Lake—Zigzags—A Table-Land—Boy and Bull Pup

—Skawton—Ryedale—Rievaulx Abbey—Walter L’Espec—A Charming Ruin—The Terrace—The
Pavilion—Helmsley—T’ Boos—Kirkby Moorside—Helmsley Castle—A River swallowed—Howardian
Hills—Oswaldkirk—Gilling—Fairfax Hall—Coxwold—Sterne’s Residence—York—The Minster Tower
—Yorke, Yorke, for my monie—The Four Bars—The City Walls—The Ouse Legend—Yorkshire
Philosophical Society—Ruins and Antiquities—St. Mary’s Lodge
217

CHAPTER XXV.

By Rail to Leeds—Kirkstall Abbey—Valley of the Aire—Flight to Settle—Giggleswick—Drunken Barnaby

again—Nymph and Satyr—The astonished Bagman—What do they Addle?—View from Castleber—
George Fox’s Vision on Pendle Hill—Walk to Maum—Companions—Horse versus Scenery—Talk by
the Way—Little Wit, muckle Work—Malham Tarn—Ale for Recompense—Malham—Hospitality—
Gordale Scar—Scenery versus Horse—Trap for Trout—A Brookside Musing—Malham Grove—Source
of the Aire—To Keighley
226

CHAPTER XXVI.

[Pg xiv]

[Pg xv]

Keighley—Men in Pinafores—Walk to Haworth—Charlotte Brontë’s Birthplace—The Church—The Pew—

The
Tombstone—The
Marriage
Register—Shipley—Saltaire—A
Model
Town—Household

Arrangements—I isn’t the Gaffer—A Model Factory—Acres of Floors—Miles of Shafting—Weaving
Shed—Thirty Thousand Yards a Day—Cunning machinery—First Fleeces—Shipley Feast—Scraps of
Dialect—To Bradford—Rival Towns—Yorkshire Sleuth-hounds—Die like a Britoner
235

CHAPTER XXVII.

Bradford’s Fame—Visit to Warehouses—A Smoky Prospect—Ways and Means of Trade—What John Bull

likes—What Brother Jonathan likes—Vulcan’s Head-quarters—Cleckheaton—Heckmondwike—Busy
Traffic—Mirfield—Robin Hood’s Grave—Batley the Shoddyopolis—All the World’s Tatters—Aspects
of Batley—A Boy capt—The Devil’s Den—Grinding Rags—Mixing and Oiling—Shoddy and Shoddy—
Tricks with Rags—The Scribbling Machine—Short Flocks, Long Threads—Spinners and Weavers—
Dyeing, Dressing, and Pressing—A Moral in Shoddy—A surprise of Real Cloth—Iron, Lead, and Coal—
To Wakefield—A Disappointment—The Old Chapel—The Battle-field—To Barnsley—Bairnsla Dialect
—Sheffield
245

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Clouds of Blacks—What Sheffield was and is—A detestable Town—Razors and Knives—Perfect Work,

Imperfect Workmen—Foul Talk—How Files are made—Good Iron, Good Steel—Breaking-up and
Melting—Making the Crucibles—Casting—Ingots—File Forgers—Machinery Baffled—Cutting the Teeth
—Hardening—Cleaning and Testing—Elliott’s Statue—A Ramble to the Corn-Law Rhymer’s Haunt—
Rivelin—Bilberry gatherers—Ribbledin—The Port’s Words—A Desecration—To Manchester—A few
Words on the Exhibition
256

CHAPTER XXIX.

A Short Chapter to end with
266

A MONTH IN YORKSHIRE.

CHAPTER I.

A SHORT CHAPTER TO BEGIN WITH.

I had cheerful recollections of Yorkshire. My first lessons in self-reliance and long walks were learned in that county. I
could not forget how, fresh from the south, I had been as much astonished at the tall, stalwart forms of the men, their
strange rustic dialect and rough manners, as by their hearty hospitality. Nor could I fail to remember the contrast
between the bleak outside of certain farm-houses and the rude homely comfort inside, where a ruddy turf fire glowed
on the hearth, and mutton hams, and oaten bread, and store of victual burdened the racks of the kitchen ceiling. Nor the
generous entertainment of more than one old hostess in little roadside public-houses, who, when I arrived at nightfall,
weary with travel, would have me sit at the end of the high-backed settle nearest the fire, or in the ‘neukin’ under the
great chimney, and bustle about with motherly kindness to get tea ready; who, before I had eaten the first pile of cakes,
would bring a second, with earnest assurance that a “growing lad” could never eat too much; who talked so
sympathisingly during the evening—I being at times the only guest—wondering much that I should be so far away from
home: had I no friends? where was I going? and the like; who charged me only eighteenpence for tea, bed, and
breakfast, and once slily thrust into my pocket, at parting, a couple of cakes, which I did not discover till half way
across a snow-drifted moor, where no house was in sight for many miles. All this, and much more which one does not
willingly forget, haunted my memory.

The wild scenery of the fells, the tame agricultural region, and the smoky wapentakes, where commerce erects more
steeples than religion, were traversed during my rambles. While wandering in the neighbourhood of Keighley, I had seen
Charlotte Brontë’s birthplace, long before any one dreamed that she would one day flash as a meteor upon the gaze of
the “reading public.” Rosebury Topping had become familiar to me in the landscapes of Cleveland, and now a desire
possessed me to get on the top of that magnificent cone. In the villages round about its base I had shared the pepper-
cake of Christmas-tide; and falling in with the ancient custom prevalent along the eastern coast from Humber to Tyne,
had eaten fried peas on Carlin Sunday—Mid-Lent of the calendar—ere the discovery of that mineral wealth, now
known to exist in such astonishing abundance, that whether the British coal-fields will last long enough or not to smelt all
the ironstone of Cleveland, is no longer a question with a chief of geologists. I had mused in the ruin where Richard the
Second was cruelly murdered, at Pontefract; had looked with proper surprise at the Dropping Well, at Knaresborough,
and into St. Robert’s Cave, the depository of Eugene Aram’s terrible secret; had walked into Wakefield, having

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scarcely outlived the fond belief that there the Vicar once dwelt with his family; and when the guard pointed out the
summits as the coach rolled past on the way from Skipton to Kirkby Lonsdale, had no misgivings as to the truth of the
saying:

“Penigent, Whernside, and Ingleborough,
Are the three highest hills all England thorough.”

Unawares, in some instances, I had walked across battlefields, memorable alike in the history of the county, and of the
kingdom; where marauding Scots, dissolute Hainaulters, Plantagenets and Tudors, Cavalier and Roundhead had rushed
to the onslaught. Marston Moor awoke the proudest emotions, notwithstanding my schoolboy recollections of what
David Hume had written thereupon; while Towton was something to wonder at, as imagination flew back to the time
when

“Palm Sunday chimes were chiming

All gladsome thro’ the air,

And village churls and maidens

Knelt in the church at pray’r;

When the Red Rose and the White Rose

In furious battle reel’d;

And yeomen fought like barons,

And barons died ere yield.

When mingling with the snow-storm,

The storm of arrows flew;

And York against proud Lancaster

His ranks of spearmen threw.

When thunder-like the uproar

Outshook from either side,

As hand to hand they battled

From morn to eventide.

When the river ran all gory,

And in hillocks lay the dead,

And seven and thirty thousand

Fell for the White and Red.

When o’er the Bar of Micklegate

They changed each ghastly head,

Set Lancaster upon the spikes

Where York had bleached and bled.

There still wild roses growing—

Frail tokens of the fray—

And the hedgerow green bear witness

Of Towton field that day.”

Did the decrepit old shambles, roofed with paving-flags, still encumber the spacious market-place at Thirsk? Did the
sexton at Ripon Minster still deliver his anatomical lecture in the grim bone-house, and did the morality of that sedate
town still accord with the venerable adage, “as true steel as Ripon rowels?” Was York still famous for muffins, or
Northallerton for quoits, cricket, and spell-and-nurr? and was its beer as good as when Bacchus held a court
somewhere within sight of the three Ridings, and asked one of his attendants where that new drink, “strong and
mellow,” was to be found? and

“The boon good fellow answered, ‘I can tell
North-Allerton, in Yorkshire, doth excel
All England, nay, all Europe, for strong ale;
If thither we adjourn we shall not fail
To taste such humming stuff, as I dare say
Your Highness never tasted to this day.’”

Hence, when the summer sun revived my migratory instinct, I inclined to ramble once more in Yorkshire. There would
be no lack of the freshness of new scenes, for my former wanderings had not led me to the coast, nor to the finest of the
old abbeys—those ruins of wondrous beauty, nor to the remote dales where crowding hills abound with the
picturesque. Here was novelty enough, to say nothing of the people and their ways, and the manifold appliances and

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results of industry which so eminently distinguish the county, and the grand historical associations of the metropolitan
city, once the “other Rome,” of which the old rhymester says—

“Let London still the just precedence claim,
York ever shall be proud to be the next in fame.”

I was curious, moreover, to observe whether the peculiar dialect or the old habits were dying out quite so rapidly as
some social and political economists would have us believe.

Quaint old Fuller, among the many nuggets imbedded in his pages, has one which implies that Yorkshire being the
biggest is therefore the best county in England. You may take six from the other thirty-nine counties, and put them
together, and not make a territory so large as Yorkshire. The population of the county numbers nearly two millions.
When within it you find the distances great from one extremity to the other, and become aware of the importance
involved in mere dimensions. In no county have Briton, Roman, and Dane left more evident traces, or history more
interesting waymarks. Speed says of it: “She is much bound to the singular love and motherly care of Nature, in placing
her under so temperate a clime, that in every measure she is indifferently fruitful. If one part of her be stone, and a sandy
barren ground, another is fertile and richly adorned with corn-fields. If you here find it naked and destitute of woods,
you shall see it there shadowed with forests full of trees, that have very thick bodies, sending forth many fruitful and
profitable branches. If one place of it be moorish, miry, and unpleasant, another makes a free tender of delight, and
presents itself to the eye full of beauty and contentive variety.”

Considering, furthermore, that for two years in succession I had seen the peasantry in parts of the north and south of
Europe, and had come to the conclusion (under correction, for my travel is brief) that the English labourer, with his
weekly wages, his cottage and garden, is better off than the peasant proprietor of Germany and Tyrol,—considering
this, I wished to prove my conclusion, and therefore started hopefully for Yorkshire.

And again, does not Emerson say, “a wise traveller will naturally choose to visit the best of actual nations.”

CHAPTER II.

Estuary of the Humber—Sunk Island—Land versus Water—Dutch Phenomena—Cleathorpes—Grimsby—Paul—River Freaks—Mud

—Stukeley and Drayton—Fluvial Parliament—Hull—The Thieves’ Litany—Docks and Drainage—More Dutch Phenomena—The
High Church—Thousands of Piles—The Citadel—The Cemetery—A Countryman’s Voyage to China—An Aid to Macadam.

As the Vivid steamed past the Spurn lighthouse, I looked curiously at the low sandy spit on which the tall red tower
stands, scarcely as it seems above the level of the water, thinking that my first walk would perhaps lead thither. At sight
of the Pharos, and of the broad estuary alive with vessels standing in, the Yorkshiremen on board felt their patriotism
revive, and one might have fancied there was a richer twang in their speech than had been perceptible in the latitude of
London. A few who rubbed their hands and tried to look hearty, vowed that their future travels should not be on the
sea. The Vivid is not a very sprightly boat, but enjoys or not, as the case may be, a reputation for safety, and for
sleeping-cabins narrower and more stifling than any I ever crept into. But one must not expect too much when the
charge for a voyage of twenty-six hours is only six and sixpence in the chief cabin.

Not without reason does old Camden remark of the Humber, “it is a common rendezvous for the greatest part of the
rivers hereabouts,” for it is a noble estuary, notwithstanding that water and shore are alike muddy. It is nearly forty miles
long, with a width of more than two miles down to about three leagues from the lighthouse, where it widens to six or
seven miles, offering a capacious entrance to the sea. The water has somewhat of an unctuous appearance, as if
overcharged with contributions of the very fattest alluvium from all parts of Yorkshire. The results may be seen on the
right, as we ascend. There spreads the broad level of Sunk Island, a noteworthy example of dry land produced by the
co-operation of natural causes and human industry. The date of its first appearance above the water is not accurately
known; but in the reign of Charles II. it was described as three thousand five hundred acres of “drowned ground,” of
which seven acres were enclosed by embankments; and was let at five pounds a year. A hundred years later fifteen
hundred acres were under cultivation, producing a yearly rental of seven hundred pounds to the lessee; but he, it is said,
made but little profit, because of the waste and loss occasioned by failure of the banks and irruptions of the tides. In
1802 the island reverted to the Crown, and was re-let on condition that all the salt marsh—nearly three thousand acres
—which was “ripe for embankment,” should be taken in, and that a church and proper houses should be built, to
replace the little chapel and five cottages which ministered as little to the edification as to the comfort of the occupants.
In 1833 the lease once more fell in, and the Woods and Forests, wisely ignoring the middlemen, let the lands directly to
the ‘Sunk farmers,’ as they are called in the neighbourhood, and took upon themselves the construction and
maintenance of the banks. A good road was made, and bridges were built to connect the Island with the main, and as
the accumulations of alluvium still went on, another ‘intake’ became possible in 1851, and now there are nearly 7000
acres, comprising twenty-three farms, besides a few small holdings, worth more than 12,000l. of annual rent. It forms a
parish of itself, and not a neglected one; for moral reclamation is cared for as well as territorial. The clergyman has a
sufficient stipend; the parishioners supplemented the grants made by Government and the Council of Education, and
have now a good schoolhouse and a competent schoolmaster.

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The Island will continue to increase in extent and value as long as the same causes continue to operate; and who shall
set limits to them? Already the area is greater than that described in the last report of the Woods and Forests, which
comprehends only the portion protected by banks. The land when reclaimed is singularly fertile, and free from stones,
and proves its quality in the course of three or four years, by producing spontaneously a rich crop of white clover.
Another fact, interesting to naturalists, was mentioned by Mr. Oldham in a report read before the British Association, at
their meeting in Hull. “When the land, or rather mud-bank, has nearly reached the usual surface elevation, the first
vegetable life it exhibits is that of samphire, then of a very thin wiry grass, and after this some other varieties of marine
grass; and when the surface is thus covered with vegetation, the land may at once be embanked; but if it is enclosed
from the tide before it obtains a green carpet, it may be for twenty years of but little value to agriculture, for scarcely
anything will grow upon it.”

This is not the only place on the eastern coast where we may see artificial land, and banks, dikes, and other defences
against the water such as are commonly supposed to be peculiar to the Netherlands.

The windows of Cleathorpes twinkling afar in the morning sun, reveal the situation of a watering-place on the opposite
shore much frequented by Lincolnshire folk. Beyond rises the tall and graceful tower of Grimsby Docks, serving at once
as signal tower and reservoir of the water-power by which the cranes and other apparatus are worked, and ships laden
and unladen with marvellous celerity. These docks cover a hundred acres of what a few years ago was a great mud-flat,
and are a favourable specimen of what can be accomplished by the overhasty enterprise of the present day. Grimsby on
her side of the river now rivals Hull on the other, with the advantage of being nearer the sea, whereby some miles of
navigation are avoided.

Turning to the right again we pass Foul Holme Sand, a long narrow spit, covered at half-tide, which some day may
become reclaimable. A little farther and there is the church of Paghill or Paul, standing on a low hill so completely
isolated from the broken village to which it belongs, that the distich runs:

“High Paul, and Low Paul, Paul, and Paul Holme,
There was never a fair maid married in Paul town.”

The vessel urges her way onwards across swirls and eddies innumerable which betray the presence of shoals and the
vigorous strife of opposing currents. The spring tides rise twenty-two feet, and rush in with a stream at five miles an
hour, noisy and at times dangerous, churning the mud and shifting it from one place to another, to the provocation of
pilots. It is mostly above Hull that the changes take place, and there they are so sudden and rapid that a pilot may find
the channel by which he had descended shifted to another part of the river on his return a few days afterwards. There
also islands appear and disappear in a manner truly surprising, and in the alternate loss or gain of the shores may be
witnessed the most capricious of phenomena. Let one example suffice: a field of fourteen acres, above Ferriby, was
reduced to less than four acres in twenty years, although the farmer during that time had constructed seven new banks
for the defence of his land.

Some notion of the enormous quantity of mud which enters the great river may be formed from the fact that fifty
thousand tons of mud have been dredged in one year from the docks and basins at Hull. The steam-dredge employed in
the work lifts fifty tons of mud in an hour, pours it into lighters, which when laden drop down with the tide, and
discharge their slimy burden in certain parts of the stream, where, as is said, it cannot accumulate.

Stukely, who crossed the estuary during one of his itineraries, remarks: “Well may the Humber take its name from the
noise it makes. My landlord, who is a sailor, says in a high wind ’tis incredibly great and terrible, like the crash and
dashing together of ships.” The learned antiquary alludes probably to the bore, or ager as it is called, which rushes up
the stream with so loud a hum that the popular mind seeks no other derivation for Humber. Professor Phillips, in his
admirable book on Yorkshire, cites the Gaelic word Comar, a confluence of two or more waters, as the origin; and Dr.
Latham suggests that Humber may be the modified form of Aber or Inver. Drayton, in Polyolbion, chants of a tragical
derivation; and as I take it for granted, amicable reader, that you do not wish to travel in a hurry, we will pause for a
few minutes to listen to the debate of the rivers, wherein “thus mighty Humber speaks:”

“My brave West Riding brooks, your king you need not scorn,
Proud Naiades neither ye, North Riders that are born,
My yellow-sanded Your, and thou my sister Swale
That dancing come to Ouse, thro’ many a dainty dale,
Do greatly me enrich, clear Derwent driving down
From Cleveland; and thou Hull, that highly dost renown,
Th’ East Riding by thy rise, do homage to your king,
And let the sea-nymphs thus of mighty Humber sing;
That full an hundred floods my wat’ry court maintain
Which either of themselves, or in their greater’s train
Their tribute pay to me; and for my princely name,
From Humber king of Hunns, as anciently it came,
So still I stick to him: for from that Eastern king
Once in me drown’d, as I my pedigree do bring:
So his great name receives no prejudice thereby;

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For as he was a king, so know ye all that I
Am king of all the floods, that North of Trent do flow;
Then let the idle world no more such cost bestow,
Nor of the muddy Nile so great a wonder make,
Though with her bellowing fall, she violently take
The neighbouring people deaf; nor Ganges so much praise,
That where he narrowest is, eight miles in broadness lays
His bosom; nor so much hereafter shall be spoke
Of that (but lately found) Guianian Oronoque,
Whose cataract a noise so horrible doth keep
That it even Neptune frights: what flood comes to the deep,
Than Humber that is heard more horribly to roar?
For when my Higre comes, I make my either shore
Even tremble with the sound, that I afar do send.”

The view of Hull seen from the water is much more smoky than picturesque. Coming nearer we see the Cornwallis
anchored off the citadel, looking as trim and earnest as one fancies an English seventy-four ought to look, and quite in
keeping with the embrasured walls through which guns are peeping on shore. The quay and landing-places exhibit
multifarious signs of life, especially if your arrival occur when the great railway steam-ferry-boat is about to start. There
is, however, something about Hull which inspires a feeling of melancholy. This was my third visit, and still the first
impression prevailed. It may be the dead level, or the sleepy architecture, or the sombre colour, or a combination of the
three, that touches the dismal key. “Memorable for mud and train oil” was what Etty always said of the town in which
he served an apprenticeship of seven weary years; yet in his time there remained certain picturesque features which
have since disappeared with the large fleet of Greenland whale-ships whereof the town was once so proud:—now
migrated to Peterhead. However, we must not forget that Hull is the third port in the kingdom; that nearly a hundred
steamers arrive and depart at regular intervals from over sea, or coastwise, or from up the rivers; that of the 4000 tons
of German yeast now annually imported, worth nearly £200,000, it receives more than two-thirds; that it was one of the
first places to demonstrate the propulsion of vessels by the power of steam. Nor will we forget that we are in one of the
towns formerly held in wholesome dread by evil-doers when recommendation to mercy was seldom heard of, as is
testified by the thieves’ litany of the olden time, thus irreverently phrased:

“From Hull, Hell, and Halifax,
Good Lord deliver us.”

Halifax, however, stood pre-eminent for sharp practice; a thief in that parish had no chance of stealing twice, for if he
stole to the value of thirteenpence halfpenny, he was forthwith beheaded.

Andrew Marvell need not have been so severe upon the Dutch, considering how much there was in his native county
similar in character and aspect to that which he satirised. You soon discover that this character still prevails. Is not the
southern landing place of the steam-ferry named New Holland? and here in Hull, whichever way you look, you see
masts, and are stopped by water or a bridge half open, or just going to open, whichever way you walk. It is somewhat
puzzling at first; but a few minutes’ survey from the top of the High Church affords an explanation.

Following the line once occupied by the old fortifications—the walls by which Parliament baffled the king—the docks
form a continuous water-communication from the river Hull on one side to the Humber on the other, so that a
considerable portion of the town has become an island, and the sight of masts and pennons in all directions, some
slowly moving, is accounted for. At the opening of the Junction Dock in 1829, whereby the desired connection was
established, the celebration included circumnavigation of the insular portion by a gaily decorated steamer.

The amphibious Dutch-looking physiognomy thus produced is further assisted by the presence of numerous windmills in
the outskirts, and the levelness of the surrounding country. A hundred years ago, and the view across what is now
cultivated fields would have comprehended as much water as land, if not more. Should a certain popular authoress ever
publish her autobiography, she will, perhaps, tell us how Mr. Stickney, her father, used when a boy to skate three or
four miles to school over unreclaimed flats within sight of this church tower of Hull, now rich in grass and grain. Only by
a system of drainage and embankment on a great scale, and a careful maintenance, has the reclamation of this and other
parts of Holderness been accomplished. Taylor, the water-poet, who was here in 1632, records,

“It yearly costs five hundred pounds besides
To fence the towne from Hull and Humber’s tydes,
For stakes, for bavins, timber, stones, and piles,
All which are brought by water many miles;
For workmen’s labour, and a world of things,
Which on the towne excessive charges brings.”

British liberty owes something to this superabundance of water. Hull was the first town in the kingdom to shut its gates
against the king and declare for the people, and was in consequence besieged by Charles. In this strait, Sir John
Hotham, the governor, caused the dikes to be cut and sluices drawn, and laid the whole neighbourhood under water,

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and kept the besiegers completely at bay. The Royalists, to retaliate, dug trenches to divert the stream of fresh water
that supplied the town,—a means of annoyance to which Hull, from its situation, was always liable. In the good old
times, when the neighbouring villagers had any cause of quarrel with the townsfolk, they used to throw carrion and other
abominations into the channel, or let in the salt-water, nor would they desist until warned by a certain Pope in an
admonitory letter.

The church itself, dedicated to the Holy Trinity, is a handsome specimen of florid Gothic, dating from the reign of
Edward II. You will perhaps wish that the effect of the light tall columns, rising to the blue panelled roof, were not
weakened by the somewhat cold and bare aspect of the interior. If you are curious about bells, there are inscriptions to
be deciphered on some of those that hang in the tower; and in the belfry you may see mysterious tables hanging on the
wall of ‘grandsire bobs,’ and ‘grandsire tripples;’ things in which the ringers take pride, but as unintelligible to the
uninitiated as Babylonish writing. There, too, hangs the ringers’ code of laws, and a queer code it is! One of the articles
runs:—“Every Person who shall Ring any Bell with his Hat or Spurs on, shall Forfeit and Pay Sixpence, for the Use of
the Ringers.” And the same fine is levied from “any Person who shall have Read Any of these Orders with his Hat upon
his Head;” from which, and the characteristic touches in the other “orders,” you will very likely come to some strange
conclusions respecting the fraternity of ringers.

The market-place is in the main street, where a gilt equestrian statue of William III. looks down on stalls of fruit, fish,
and seaweed, and the moving crowd of townsfolk and sailors. By the side of the Humber dock rises the Wilberforce
monument, a tall column, bearing on its capital a statue of the renowned advocate of the negroes. And when you have
looked at these and at the hospital, and walked through the garrison, you will have visited nearly all that is monumental
in Hull.

At low water, the little river Hull is a perfect representation of a very muddy ditch. While crossing the ferry to the
citadel, the old boatman told me he could remember when every high tide flowed up into the streets of the town, but the
new works for the docks now keep the water out. Hundreds of piles were driven into the sandy bank to establish a firm
foundation for the massive walls, quays, and abutments. At the time when timber rose to an enormous price in
consequence of Napoleon’s continental blockade, the piles of the coffer-dam which had been buried seven years, were
pulled up and sold for more than their original cost. Government gave the site of some old military works and 10,000l.
towards the formation of the first dock, on condition that it should be made deep enough to receive ships of fifty guns.

In records of the reign of Henry VIII. there appears—“Item: the Kinges Ma’tes house to be made to serve as a Sitidell
and a speciall kepe of the hole town.” The present citadel has an antiquated look, and quiet withal, for the whole
garrison, at the time I walked through it, numbered only twenty-five artillerymen. Judging from my own experience, one
part of the sergeant’s duty is to shout at inquisitive strangers who get up on the battery to look through an embrasure,
and the more vehemently as they feign not to hear till their curiosity is satisfied. There is room in the magazines for
twenty thousand stand of arms, and ordnance stores for...